


Lethe

by Dabberdees



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Multi, This was a update for whumptober but i figured it would be good to post alone, Whump, dark!Doctor, mind wiping, she is angry yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dabberdees/pseuds/Dabberdees
Summary: There's softness, a quiet thrum, and gentle voices all around him. They are what stir him from slumber and back into the waking world. The second he opens his eyes, he closes them again, the light burns, so he groans instead, which draws the attention of the voices as they quieten down. Footsteps approach, three pairs he thinks. “Take it easy,” One voice says, feminine. "You've been asleep for a while.""Too long," A male says. "Had us all worried there."His eyes open, and he stares at what he thinks is the first voice. She has blond hair and old eyes. He looks to the others now, younger than her and worried. Why? He’s really not sure.“What happened?”“We’re not sure; we were hoping you could tell us, you and Jack went off alone, and then we found you all by yourself with no trace of Jack at all.” The younger woman says, and he frowns at her. There is something familiar about her, well all of them, but he can’t place it. “Are you alright, Graham? You look a bit confused.”
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Graham O'Brien, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Lethe

**Author's Note:**

> if you read this from my whumptober, hey! :)
> 
> if you haven't read this from that, then also, hey! :)
> 
> this was a story i was working on back in Dec 2019/Jan 2020 but never finished due to writing myself into a corner
> 
> so, i took it down, swapped things around and ended it off at this point

There's softness, a quiet thrum, and gentle voices all around him. They are what stir him from slumber and back into the waking world. The second he opens his eyes, he closes them again, the light burns, so he groans instead, which draws the attention of the voices as they quieten down. Footsteps approach, three pairs he thinks. “Take it easy,” One voice says, feminine. "You've been asleep for a while."

"Too long," A male says. "Had us all worried there."

His eyes open, and he stares at what he thinks is the first voice. She has blond hair and old eyes. He looks to the others now, younger than her and worried. Why? He’s really not sure. 

“What happened?”

“We’re not sure; we were hoping you could tell us, you and Jack went off alone, and then we found you all by yourself with no trace of Jack at all.” The younger woman says, and he frowns at her. There is something familiar about her, well all of them, but he can’t place it. “Are you alright, Graham? You look a bit confused.”

“Graham?” He repeats, testing the name out like he’s never spoken it before. "Who's Graham?"

The younger man raises an eyebrow. “Did you take a knock to the head, gramps, or are you just going daft in your old age?” He says in a teasing tone, something that only confuses him more.

He turns to look at the younger man. “What did you call me?”

The smirk vanishes from the younger man’s face pretty quickly as he flicks his eyes to the older woman. “Doctor?”

“Doctor?” He murmurs, now sitting up and wincing as he looks around the strange room. “Am I in a hospital? Am I hurt?"

“Graham, can you look at me?”

He frowns again and follows her order. “You and her-” He gestures to the younger woman. “-you both called me that name, why?”

“Because it’s your name, Graham,” The younger woman says. “Graham O’Brien-”

“My name?” He asks, face twisting and eyes shutting when he tries to think. “I don’t-” He starts, eyes opening again when he realises he doesn’t actually remember a name at all. “Why don’t I remember?”

“Graham, focus and it’s important that you do,” The woman, doctor, or something says. “I need you to look at me and answer a quick question.”

“Doctor, what is happening?”

“Not now, Ryan,” The doctor woman says quickly, voice coming out slightly panicked. “Graham-”

“What?” He snaps. “You asked me to look at you, and I am doing it now.”

“How old are you?”

He scowls at her. “What sort of stupid question is that?”

“Just answer it for me.”

“I’m- I’m-” He starts, eyes looking away from her and into his lap as he tries to think. “I don’t know-” His voice tumbles out, words mixing together and breath coming in gasps. “How can I not know?” He tries to think of anything; they call him ‘Graham’ but the sound of it has no meaning to him, so he goes back to his age, and there is just nothing, birthday- empty, parents, everyone has parents, and yet, it’s just all blank- “I don’t remember anything.”

“Graham-”

“I don’t remember.” He utters, voice deathly quiet in the thrum of the room. "Why don't I remember?"

“Gramps?”

He looks to the young lad watching him, face concerned and scared and he doesn’t recognise him at all, maybe there’s something, but it’s transient and gone like breath on glass, but the lad, he knows him enough to call him ‘gramps’, and that means- Oh, he feels sick. There is a buzzing of something to his left, but he doesn’t turn to look at it. Just stares at the young man calling him grandad with dread.

“Doctor, is it a virus or something?” The younger woman asks. “Or was he drugged?” Her voice turns horrified at the prospect at that. “We did lose track of them before finding him unconscious in the alleyway.”

“No,” The older woman replies. “The TARDIS would’ve picked that up when we brought him in here, and my sonic would find traces of a drug within him if he were, no, it’s something else, something that I can’t pick up from the sonic alone.” She rambles further, and he listens, getting even more puzzled by the second.

"Do you think Jack has suffered the same thing?"

"I don't know, Yaz."

The lad, Ryan, looks up at the doctor woman. “Can you fix it, Doctor?”

“I don’t know what’s the matter yet,” She answers back, voice turning snippy. “I need to run tests, need to-”

“But you can fix it?”

“I don’t know!” The woman finally snaps. “I don’t know, Ryan! And I won't know without running tests first!”

He stares at them all, and he feels lost, a stranger in a room filled with them.

“Graham,” The woman says again, calmer this time around, and he’s getting tired of being called like he's a dog. “Can you recall anything?”

He narrows his eyes at her, head still aching and only increasing. “Like what?”

“Just anything, anything that might be useful,” She suggests. “No matter how small.”

“No,” He answers with honesty. “Nothing apart from what I’ve seen and heard since I woke up here, wherever here is,” His head tilts to the side. “You all call me Graham, but he calls me gramps, but I-”

“But you what?”

He looks at them all, mind trying to place faces and coming up blank. “-I don’t know you, I look at you, and maybe there’s something, just, something, but it's small and out of reach, and that’s it 'cos when I try to think I get nothing. I only know his name is Ryan ‘cause you said it,” He gestures to Ryan. “But you two, I know you’re a doctor of something, but I don’t know your name and you,” He points to the younger woman. “I haven’t the foggiest idea of who the hell you are.”

The moment the words leave his mouth he sees the hurt on their faces, and he didn’t mean to make his words sound so cutting, but she, the doctor woman, she asked him to recall, and he did. 

“I’m the Doctor,” The older woman introduces herself. “It’s just the Doctor,” She smiles and he knows it’s fake, something to reassure maybe. “That’s Ryan Sinclair, and that’s Yasmin Khan, Yaz to her friends, and you’re Graham O’Brien.” He looks to the younger people, and he sees the worry and fear again, hands balled into fists, or tapping a pattern against a leg. “We’re a family, your family.”

“Family,” He repeats, thinking that maybe if he says it, it might strike something within him, but it doesn’t. “You mentioned a Jack, who is he?”

That question causes them to almost flinch, and he has a horrible suspicion that whoever that is, they're important to him.

“Later,” The Doctor says, hand on his arm. “I need to run some tests on you, is that okay?”

Graham shrugs, now deciding to at least go with the name they’re calling him. “I don’t have much choice, I suppose.” The Doctor pats him once on the arm before turning away and heading over to a cabinet. He watches her for a moment only to pull his eyes away when the young woman, Yaz, speaks to him.

“I can show you some pictures of us together if you want? Show you that we know you and all.”

“Pictures?”

“Yeah, it’s a small-”

“I know what a picture is, Yasmin,” Graham interjects, snappish and brisk. “I mean-” He sighs when he notices her expression, that shock mixed together with hurt again. “I’m sorry, it was the right assumption, though, considering that I don’t know much about anything else.” He says, maybe trying to relieve some of the stress and missing the mark entirely judging by the unchanged look on her face.

“No, it’s fine, I shouldn’t have assumed that you wouldn’t know, and it wasn’t that, not really-” She says, tripping over her words slightly. “You just-”

“What?”

“You called me Yasmin, and you never called me that.”

Graham stares at her, swallowing thickly. “She said it was your name, though, I thought-” What did he think? He closes his eyes and exhales, steadying his breathing while his headache builds with the extra stress of everything. “I assume I called you Yaz, 'cos we're family or something, instead of Yasmin.”

“You did, but it’s fine-”

“It’s not though, is it?” Graham interrupts. “It’s really not fine, because you all know me and,” He trails off, finding it hard to put into words. "And I don't know you."

“The Doctor will fix this, gramps,” Ryan says with faith. “She always comes through for us, doesn’t she Yaz?”

“Yup,” Yaz agrees with all the enthusiasm of a lamb going to slaughter.

Graham can only nod back, trusting them at their word. “You said you had a picture that I could see-” He looks to the young woman. “Can I see it, it might help, you know?” He doesn't think it will, but maybe it would ease their nerves.

Yaz nods and pulls out her phone, unlocking it and opening the gallery before handing it over to Graham. He accepts the phone from her and starts to look through the photos. Ryan is there, smiling, next is the Doctor and Yaz, he carries on flicking through them, and he frowns, pausing on a group photo when it becomes frustrating.

It’s of the Doctor, Yaz, Ryan, and two men. One late fifties, possibly sixties maybe, grey hair and pale skin, the other younger, pale as well, and with dark brown hair. He purses his lips and stares at them.

"Which one am-" He begins, only to stop.

He catches Ryan and Yaz frowning when he exits from the gallery and opens the camera. If they asked him how he knew how to do that, he couldn’t explain, it was just- muscle memory he guesses; still, he switches the camera to front-facing, and his heart sinks like a lead balloon.

The man that stares back at him is the one in the photo, grey hair and blue eyes and smiling, not the dark brown-haired one. He feels sick and hot like someones wrapped him in one too many blankets, his chest rises and falls with each breath, rapid and short, not enough to relieve the lack of oxygen running through his body.

How could he forget what he looks like? He could buy the name, and everything maybe, but his face? And why didn’t it occur to him before he looked at the pictures?

“Gramps-”

“Don’t call me that!” Graham snaps quickly and with anger before swinging his legs from the bed, trying to stand, only to fall to the floor, knees slamming down against it. “I don’t know why you’re calling me that.”

“Graham!” The Doctor says quickly, and he feels a pair of hands on him that he shrugs off. “What happened?”

“I dunno,” Ryan answers back, too quickly and harsh. “He was fine, and then he looked at himself and-” The lad cuts himself off, voice finally breaking. "He snapped at me."

Graham pushes himself from the fall and sits back against a wall, hands gripping against his head tightly while his eyes search the floor for anything to focus on. He feels pressure on his knees, the ache from the floor surging slightly from it, but it’s enough to take his mind off the raging panic.

“You have to breath, Graham,” The Doctor says. “In and hold it, then release it and repeat.” She soothes, and he looks up and into her green eyes. “Do it with me if you need to, follow what I do, okay?”

Graham watches her, hands balling into fists, but he follows her lead and breathes. His face is wet-

“Ryan, Yaz, can you leave us for a while?”

“Doctor, I want to-”

“Ryan, please,” The Doctor says.

“Come on, Ryan,” Yaz speaks. “He’s in good hands-”

Graham doesn’t look at them when they turn to leave; he doesn’t look at the Doctor either when she settles down next to him. She doesn’t speak, allowing him to work himself back from the edge and into something controllable.

They sit in silence for minutes; the only sound around them is the deep breathing and the backing noises of the room he’s in. He exhales one more time before turning to face the Doctor, face still wet. “I forgot what I looked like," He murmurs. "I couldn't figure out which one I once and I looked into the camera, it was too much."

The Doctor face twitches slightly, but he can tell she’s controlled most of it, never letting her thoughts show. “I can imagine that that was quite shocking for you.”

Graham shrugs and pulls his knees to his chest, feeling rotten. “Shocking doesn’t cover it, Doctor.” He murmurs. “I- I-” He trails off and brings a hand to his eyes and then frowns. “I think I snapped at the lad, Ryan.”

“You did,”

“I should say sorry then,” Graham murmurs. “I didn’t mean to; it’s just-” He leans his head back against the wall. “-I don’t know any of you, I didn’t even know myself until I looked, and that’s terrifying, and he's there calling me gramps like I'm sposed to know why.”

“You’re scared.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Graham fires back, wincing at the tone. “I’m-”

“It’s okay, Graham,” The Doctor interjects, pausing and then exhaling. “I have an idea, it’s not a fix, but it might make me understand what happened, and perhaps give me a place to start.”

“Does it have something to do with what you were looking for?”

“No,” The Doctor responds. “The TARDIS redecorated, always a little harder to find what you need when she does that,”

“You know that that goes completely over my head cause I don’t know what a TARDIS is,” Graham points out. “You gotta explain these things to me, Doctor.” The Doctor looks to Graham, eyes saddened by something. “Have I said something again?”

“You use to call me by a nickname,”

“As I did with Yaz,” Graham reveals. “I called her Yasmin, cause you said her name was Yasmin and only her friends called her Yaz, I didn’t think then.” He explains. “The look on her face-” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “This is hard.”

The Doctor reaches out and takes his free hand in hers, squeezing it and then letting go. “We’ll figure something out, Graham, I promise you that.”

“Will you get my memories back?” Graham asks. “Be honest with me here, 'cos that Ryan lad seems to think you can.”

“I don’t know,” The Doctor says. “I’ll try everything I can, but-”

“If you can’t, then that’s it,” Graham finishes for her. “I'll basically start my life from here then, I guess, 'spose I gotta.”

The Doctor looks down and then nods after a moment. “I might be able to give you some memories back, they won’t be yours, they’d be ours-”

“Not mine, though.”

“No.”

Graham nods and then turns his head to face the Doctor. “You wanted to try something, what was it?”

The Doctor focuses on to his face. “I can look into your mind, maybe see if something happened there that is blocking your memories.”

“How?”

“I’m a touch telepath,” The Doctor reveals. “It’s not painful, and it’s quick, I just need to look through the surface your mind.”

Graham shrugs. “It’s worth a go, I guess,” He says. “Go ahead, Doctor.”

The Doctor nods, and he watches as she moves so she’s kneeling in front of him, his eyes follow her hands to the side of his face, and he frowns when he feels her cold hands against his cheeks. Graham watches her face, eyes closed and a look of concentration, brows furrowed slightly, but she was honest because whatever she’s doing doesn’t hurt.

She pulls away quickly, eyes wide with a look of horror in them. Graham frowns at her. “What’s the matter? Did you find anything?”

The Doctor shakes her head, mouth moving briefly and throat swallowing. “I’m so, so, sorry, Graham-”

“What for?” Graham asks. “What did you see?”

She averts her eyes from his, before standing quickly and leaning against the frame of the bed he was just previously on. “I saw nothing.”

“Nothing?”

The Doctor breathes, and he watches her chest rising and falling again. “Your memories aren’t blocked or hidden, Graham, they’re non-existent.”

“What does that mean?”

The Doctor finally looks back to him as he pulls himself off the floor, legs shaking with the effort. “It means there is nothing to get back,” She reveals, drawing that dread back to the surface for Graham. “Your memories are gone for good.”

Graham stares at the Doctor, eyes searching her face for any sign that she might be deceiving him, but there’s only a sense of profound sadness. It lights up her face, turns her eyes from kind to distressed. “Gone?” Graham repeats, and she nods, hands gripped white against the frame of the bed, and he knows if they were by her side, they’d be shaking. “And you can’t get them back?” 

She gives a slight shake of her head. “I-” Her voice hitches slightly, and he reaches out to her, aged hand resting against her youthful one. “No, I’m sorry, maybe I could try-” She shrugs, shoulders only moving briefly. “I don’t know, Graham, not at the moment anyway.”

“I’m sorry you can’t help me,” Graham says, and he pats her hand, thinking that she might need it or something before removing it altogether. “You mentioned about giving me something?” He frowns. “Your memories, right?”

The Doctor removes her eyes from the hand that he held. “Our memories of you, mine, Yaz’s, and Ryan’s, Jack if we find him, which we need to do, what we saw together, what we’ve done together, as much as we can.”

Graham nods. “Can I ask a question first?”

“Of course,” The Doctor replies, now turning her eyes to Graham. “You can ask whatever you want.”

“How long have I known you all?” Graham asks. “The lad, Ryan, he called me gramps, so I assume I’ve known him for years, but you two?”

“You’ve known myself and Yaz for a little over a year, and Ryan for longer.” The Doctor reveals. “He’s your grandson through marriage.”

Graham’s eyes widen. “What?” He stumbles and flicks his eyes down to his hand. He brings it up and focuses on the ring there, thumb moving it around his finger. “I’m married.” He misses the expression on the Doctor’s face, skin as white as a sheet that quickly turns into a fake smile when he turns back to look at her. “Where are they? Who are they? I mean-”

“Maybe we’d be best leaving that for the moment, Graham, because I have some-”

Graham narrows his eyes. “No, you’re dodging the subject, Doctor,” Graham interjects with an air of annoyance. “You’ve been honest with me so far, or at least I think you have, but now you’re changing the subject on purpose, why? Does it have something to do with this Jack?”

The Doctor maintains eye contact with him before quickly looking away, eyes searching for anything else to stare at. “She’s not here.”

"She?" Graham frowns. "But you mentioned-"

"Jack and her are two different people."

“But that doesn’t answer my question,” Graham points out. “And you know it doesn’t.”

“She-” The Doctor pauses and faces Graham again, chest rising with a deep breath she pulled in. “-she died, back when you first met me.”

“Oh,” Graham merely says, and he tries to think, tries to drag anything that could be her, his wife, up and he finds nothing. It’s empty, like a brand new phone. All the components are there, the languages, and maths, even the calendar, but that personalised feel to it? Gone.

“Graham, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Graham's hands clench around the frame with anger, and he doesn’t know why. It’s not like he knew his so-called wife, or grandson, or anyone else, so why is he feeling angry? He shoves at the bed, moving it before stalking away, hands now clenching tightly at his side as emotions boil over when he realises that what he’s feeling is a loss. For his memories or for the woman he doesn’t know? He’s not sure, and now he’s crying, throat tight and pained, eyes wet and shoulders shaking.

“Graham-”

“Don’t,” Graham says, voice shaky, hand held up to stop her from approaching. “Just-” He pauses, mind racing with thoughts, but nothing from before he woke up. “What was her name?”

“Grace.”

“Nice name,” Graham murmurs as he looks to the floor. “Maybe it’s better for her, you know.”

The Doctor approaches, and he feels a hand on his shoulder, no pressure, but there and he doesn’t shake it off. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Graham says. “At least she doesn’t have to look at me, watch as I stare back with no recollection that I even know her, that I supposedly loved her.” He turns and looks at the Doctor. “I don’t even know what she looks like, and yet I feel this loss, and I can’t explain why, just that it’s there, constant and like a freight train," He snaps out with a swish of his hand. "What is Jack to me?" He can spot the hesitation on her face. "Answer me!"

"You're together," The Doctor snaps back at him. "And we don't know where he is." Graham rubs a hand down his face in pain. “I could show you what your wife looked like if you want.”

“You have a picture of her?” Graham asks wishing to change the horror about someone going through what he's going through while they are missing.

The Doctor shakes her head. “I have something better.”

Graham furrows his brows together and looks at her, face a mess and cheeks wet. “How?”

“Remember how I said I could give you some memories?” He nods, listening intently to her. “I could give you my memory of her now if you want.”

Graham looks away thinking the offer over, and he’s not sure really. They wouldn’t be his memories, they’ll be hers, and that’s off-putting, to say the least. “How would you do it?”

“Like before, when I looked through your mind previously,” The Doctor informs. “And just as quick.”

“But it won’t be my memory of her, will it?” Graham asks, knowing the answer anyway. “It would just be like looking into a photo because as much as she would be smiling or whatever, I wouldn’t know her, she’d be a stranger to me.”

“I wouldn’t force you to make any decision, Graham, you can trust me on that.”

Graham nods, swift and quick. “Maybe not,” He starts, pausing ever so briefly. “I don’t know; I have a lot to take in and adding something like that on top of everything right now might be too much for me, I think, I'm still reeling from the idea that Jack is out there somewhere, can you find him?”

"I have the TARDIS searching for him now, but you were my first priority, Jack is hardy, and he can survive a lot."

“Do you know what happened to me, Doctor?” Graham wonders. “Yaz said I was unconscious.”

“We split up,” The Doctor starts. “Like we’ve done before, and I had no reason to suspect anything would happen, it was just a market, that’s all, and you were with Jack.”

“But it was a market where I lost my memories and lost Jack.”

The Doctor sighs, weary and drained. “There was nothing there that showed any signs of danger.” She says. “I arranged for us all to meet back up in the square at a certain time, Yaz was first back which, and then Ryan, but you never arrived, and that was wrong.”

“How come?” Graham probes now looking at her.

“You’re a bus driver, Graham,” The Doctor states. “You would’ve been the first back, but you weren’t, and that worried us all.”

“So how did you find me, then?”

The Doctor pulls out the annoying buzzing device that he heard earlier. “With my sonic,” She explains, clicking it on once. “I tracked your signal to the alleyway where we found you unconscious. Yaz thought you were mugged at first, but nothing was taken from you-” The moment the words leave her mouth she freezes, eyes wide. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

Graham shrugs. “You didn’t know at the time,” He waves her off, feeling sick slightly.

The Doctor stares back and then she frowns, expression deep in thought. “Maybe-” She pauses, catching Graham’s attention again.

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe that’s what they took,” She explains. “I’d have to look over data, the time frame, even do a little galactic google search to see if anyone else has reported it.”

“You know, when you looked through my mind, could you see anything that would explain it?” Graham questions. “Cause if you did then you could have something to work from, right?”

The Doctor glances at Graham. “If I run some tests,” Her brows crease together. “I have an idea what it could be, but it’s impossible for a planet like the one we were own to have the technology, at least at that time.”

Graham frowns. “Planet?” He stares at her, incredulous and momentarily forgetting the issue at hand. “Are you telling me we travel through space?”

“It’s the TARDIS.”

“You said TARDIS again, Doctor,” Graham reminds. “Might want to run some things through with me.”

The Doctor nods, and then after a moment, she extends a hand out to Graham. “Come with me; I want to show you something.”

Graham stares at the offered hand before taking it and allowing the Doctor to lead him from the medical bay; he assumes it is one anyway and further into the building they’re in. Its pathways are winding and seemingly unending, but the Doctor looks like she knows where she is going.

He looks around as she leads him, eyes focusing on bits and pieces passing by, doors leading to gigantic rooms only for the next door to lead a room that should be impossible considering its neighbour. “What is this place?”

“Time and Relative Dimensions in Space,” The Doctor answers. “TARDIS for sort, and she’s my ship, my home-” She glances back at Graham. “Our home.”

“Your ship?” Graham speaks again. “But it’s huge.”

“She’s infinite, Graham.”

“Infinite,” Graham murmurs from behind her, not really getting it. “So we live here then?”

“Occasionally,” The Doctor answers. “When I pick you up from Sheffield.”  
Graham stares at the back of the Doctor’s head. “Not to sound like a broken record, but what is that?” 

“It’s where you live, Graham, with Jack and Ryan.”

“Makes sense I ‘spose,” He sighs and shrugs, weariness striking him full force now. “Where are we going?”

“We’re nearly there,” The Doctor responds, glancing over her shoulder and smiling. “It’s just through here-”

Graham removes his eyes from the Doctor and looks upon the room as soon as they enter. It’s big with crystal-like structures, orange in colour, and there is a feeling of warmth. There is a central area, raised from the ground with circular patterns running across them. “It’s massive in here.”  
“You should see the outside, that’s the real headwonk,” The Doctor says back at him. “Now, come on, we’re here, and I want to show you something.”

Graham watches her again and then looks ahead as they approach two doors, wooden he thinks. “Where does that lead?”

“Wait and see, Graham,” The Doctor smiles and then she turns and pulls the doors and for a split second Graham feels like he’s about to get sucked out into space, only he doesn’t. The smile is still on the Doctor’s face. “Shielding, wouldn’t go without it.” She says proudly.

“That’s space,” Graham says, disregarding what the Doctor is talking about. “That’s bloody space.” He repeats and then frowns again. “Wait, how do I know what that is? I mean, I know space as in the word, but how can I say what that is without ever seeing it before?”

The Doctor smiles vanishes, and she cocks her head to the side, puzzled expression now appearing on her face. “I’m not sure.”

Graham walks forward, hands holding onto the doors as he looks out. “I don’t recognise any of the stars, but that’s space, that’s literally space.” He looks to the Doctor and smiles, genuine. “We’re in space.” He’s like a kid in a candy shop, heart thumping in his chest from excitement. The definition of the word, what it means, is in his head, but actually seeing it for the first time is another thing altogether. "It's beautiful, but it's a distraction, isn't it?"

“No, it isn't, Graham, I-" The Doctor frowns. "I just wanted to show you because we can go wherever we want to in the TARDIS, Graham,” The Doctor says as she leans back against the doorframe. “Anytime, anyplace, any one of those stars.” She looks out. "I know Jack is out there, but I can't do anything while the ship is searching, there was a framework over the planet, too advanced, so I took us out and into space while we search, I will land us back onto the planet as if no time has passed."

“Wow, and I'd be amazed if that didn't all just go over my head,” Graham murmurs. His eyes travel across the stars, shining brightly in the distance before glancing back. “So, then, Doc, where do I come from?”

“Mhmm?”

“Where do I-” His eyes dart back to the opening. “You said planets earlier,” She nods. “So which one am I from? Cause it has to be out there.”

The Doctor's eyes widen a fraction. “You don’t know?” 

Graham shakes his head as she turns to look out as well. “Maybe if I tried to think about it,” He says, brows knitting together. The word is almost there. “Something like dirt, although why would you call a planet, dirt, I dunno, but it’s something like that, I think.”

“Earth, Graham, she's called Earth, and she's a beautiful spec of green and blue in the cosmos, filled with many creatures, some big, some small, but all-important in the grand scheme of things.” She explains. “Humans make up a good portion of them though-”

Graham glances to the Doctor, face turning blank on purpose as an idea hits him, who says he can’t have a bit of fun. “What’s a human?” The Doctor snaps her head back to him, and he can’t help the smirk that turns into a smile and then the laugh that escapes, maybe it's crazy sounding slightly, but seeing her face was worth it. “I’m joking, Doctor,” He says, still laughing. “I know what a human is.”

"Honestly, Graham," The Doctor fires back, a smile tugging at her lips, and he's grateful that the distress has turned to mirth for the time being anyway. “I wonder why, though.”

“What do you mean?”

The Doctor places her hands in her pockets. “You didn’t know what you looked like, but you know you’re human.”

Graham shrugs. “I don’t know, I mean, I didn't think about it; I just knew it." He explains. "Maybe whatever happened didn’t take away something so fundamental to me.”

“I think we need to go over what you know and what you don’t, Graham.” The Doctor suggests. “It would give me something to go on.”

“And me,” Graham adds. “I used Yaz’s phone earlier, knew how to change from the gallery and to the camera, even how to flick it to front-facing.”

“You did?”

Graham nods. “Yeah, but I don’t know why, it just came to me,” His brows knit together. “It was less of me thinking about it, more-” He pauses. “-muscle memory, I guess? Cause my hands just did it.”

The Doctor has a thoughtful look on her face. “That-” She turns from the door, and Graham watches her go. “Graham, come with me.”

“Why?”

“I want to know what you can do without thinking about it.”

Graham raises an eyebrow and follows after the Doctor. “That could take a while cause it’s not like I know what I might know.”

“We have time here,” The Doctor answers, and it’s cryptic. “Kitchen first.”

“Why there?”

“You spent a lot of time in there,” The Doctor explains. “I’m hoping that something might-” She glances to him. “-not jog your memory, but give it a chance, give you something.”

“Well, if it can help, then I’m willing to give anything a go.”

* * *

Teabag, water, leave it to brew, and then a dash of milk- Graham thinks. His eyes narrow in thought. He removes the bag and stares at the tea on the counter, trying to remember if he’s missing any steps. “I did it.” Pause as he stares at the light brown liquid. “I think?”

The Doctor is next to him in an instant, head peeking around him to look at the cup of tea. “Looks good, why don’t you try it?”

Graham glances to the Doctor. “Alright,” He lifts the mug and eyes the brown liquid with suspicion. “You said I liked this?” He asks and the Doctor nods. He proceeds forward and sips it, careful of the hot liquid, tasting the liquid before pulling the mug away and grimacing.

“What’s wrong?”

Graham eyes the mug again. “It doesn’t taste-” His brow furrows in thought. “-I was expecting something else.” He looks to the Doctor. “You sure I liked this?”

The Doctor nods, but he sees a flash of disappointment on her face. “You always had a cup of tea in the morning.”

“I could try making it again?” Graham suggests. “I might’ve messed up a step or something.”

“You didn’t,” The Doctor says, leaning back against the counter in the TARDIS kitchen. "Why don't you try it with some sugar?"

Graham nods and reaches over to the sugar. He deposits one spoonful in and swirls it around. He brings the tea up again and takes another sip, this time finding it a lot nicer on the tastebuds. "That's better but still strange."

“But you knew how to make it, even if it wasn’t what you expected.” The Doctor beams, hand gentle on his forearm and patting it before removing it again.

Graham gently places the mug down and mimics the Doctor’s pose, arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t speak, and neither does the Doctor, both caught up in deep thoughts that only get disturbed by the sound of voices approaching. Graham looks up a moment after the Doctor, and he spots Ryan and Yaz stood in the doorway looking in, both with worried expressions on their young faces. Which makes sense, he supposes. He’d be worried too if someone he knew suddenly didn’t recognise them at all.

“Hey,” Graham says, unfolding his arms and looking at the pair of them, eyes mainly focusing on Ryan. “I’m sorry about earlier; I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Ryan taps a pattern onto his thigh, nervousness perhaps, Graham guesses. “That’s okay, gram- Graham.”

Graham winces, remembering what he said. Correcting it now or acknowledging it won’t be good for either of them, and he might not know or remember the lad, but what he said would’ve stung him.

There is silence among them, the sound awkward and tense and choking in the small kitchen. “Uh,” Graham speaks, eyes flicking down to the now cold tea before looking back to Ryan and Yaz. “Do you want a tea?”

Yaz’s eyebrow raises, and she takes a step into the kitchen. “A tea?”

“Yeah,” Graham says. “I can make them.”

Ryan follows after Yaz, equally looking puzzled. “You can?”

Graham nods, happy that the awkwardness has been replaced by something for the time being. “Yeah, I remembered how to make them, or not, I don’t really know.” He turns around, missing the shared glance of Ryan and Yaz. He pulls down four mugs from a cabinet and turns the kettle on. Graham faces them again after placing four tea bags into the mugs. “I’m not sure how I did it,” He looks to Yaz. “But it came to me in the same way,” He explains. “Like when I used your phone, Yaz.” He sees the faint smile on her face at the use of her nickname.

“I think it’s ingrained in him,” The Doctor ventures, drawing the attention back to her. “I’m not sure, but I think daily tasks, something he never thought about have remained.”

“So, maybe his memories will come back as well?” Ryan suggests in a hopeful tone. “If we give it some time.”

The Doctor glances at Graham, mouth about to open- “Why don’t you take a seat at the table, and I’ll bring the teas over?” Graham interjects quickly, eyes only locking against the Doctor’s briefly and trying to communicate the word ‘don’t’ to her. “I can’t say I’ll get them right, but it’s the thought that counts, yeah?”

“Alright,” Ryan says. His hand reaches out to Graham, pausing but then continuing to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Graham smiles back at the lad before turning around to focus on the teas again. Teabag, hot water, brew, milk. He pointedly ignores the look directed at him from the Doctor. He’ll tell Ryan eventually, but not now, not when he still has some hope that the Doctor can fix this.

And anyway the teas are made, and that’s a distraction. Graham picks the four mugs up, two in each hand and he carefully walks over to the small table. He sets the mugs down in no particular order and then hands them out one by one. He catches the look on Yaz’s face when he hands the red, blue, and yellow over to her. “What’s the matter, have I messed up something?”

Yaz looks at the Doctor and then to Ryan before sighing. “That’s your mug, Graham,” She says, and he stares at it. “You wouldn’t let us touch it before, not even Jack could, and he did try.”

“Oh,” Graham whispers. To him, it’s a mug, but to them, they know it had meaning to him. He exhales and settles down into the free seat, hands reaching out to the mug in question and taking it back. He reads the front of it. “West Ham United.” His brows furrow together because he feels like he should know what it means. 

It’s important.

“You support them,” Ryan informs him. “Big Hammers fan.” He gestures out to Graham’s collar, drawing attention to the small badge there. “You have an antique badge of theirs.”

Graham places the mug down and pulls at his collar so he can see the small metal badge. He tries to place them, tries to figure out what’s so essential about- “West Ham United, Football Club.” He reads from the small lettering on the badge. “Football.” He frowns and he’s beginning to get frustrated. “I should know what that means.”

“It’ll come back to you,” Ryan suggests. “Give it time.” Graham releases his hold on the collar of his jacket and glances to Ryan, and then to the Doctor. Ryan catches this and flicks his eyes between the pair of them.

“What is it?”

The Doctor rests her hands onto the table and exhales, eyes slowly looking to Ryan and Yaz. “His memories aren’t blocked.”

“What does that mean?” Ryan questions.

“They’re gone, Ryan,” The Doctor reveals. “I looked, and they’re gone.”

“What do you mean they’re gone?” Ryan demands, eyes continuing to flick between Graham and the Doctor. “And how the hell did you look?”

“Ryan-”

“No, Yaz,” Ryan interjects. “I want to know exactly what is going on here,” He says, hand gesturing his point. “He’s my grandad, and I want to know what has happened to him, Jack would want to know what has happened to him as well!”

“Someone took my memories, Ryan,” Graham says. “That’s what the Doctor said; she doesn’t know much more than that though cause she needs to figure things out.”

“Can you get them back?” Ryan demands, his voice coming out angry.  
The Doctor shakes her head. “I can’t get back something that isn’t there, Ryan, no matter how hard I try.”

“So that’s it then?” Ryan says. “He’s gone-” Graham frowns at that and locks his eyes onto Ryan’s face. He watches as the realisation of what the lad said appears on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I get it,” Graham says. “I’m not who you know me to be, and that’s hard, but I’m not gone.” He says, pushing himself from the table and chair. He looks to the Doctor. “Do I have a room or something here?” The Doctor nods, the movement subtle enough. Graham ignores both Ryan and Yaz; it’s easier that way. “Where is it?”

“The TARDIS will lead you to your room, Graham,” The Doctor answers. 

“I can show you if you want?” Yaz offers.

Graham waves her off and turns to leave the kitchen. “No, ta,” He says. “A walk will do me some good.”

And then he leaves the kitchen entirely; he picks his pace up when he hears them speaking because he doesn’t want to listen, to hear, to be made aware and reminded that he’s gone as Ryan so gently put it because he is gone.

They are gone from his life.

And he is gone from his.

He doesn’t know his parents; he couldn’t tell you where he lives, even his name has no meaning to him. They call him Graham, but what is that? It’s nothing because it means nothing. They could call him anything, and he’d believe them, they could tell him anything, and he’d believe them, they could’ve even done this and covered it up-

Graham pauses, eyes glancing up the hallway and considering that option. But that’s a ridiculous thought to have, to go to all this trouble and emotion over him, but the alternative is worse somehow. If they didn’t know him and simply took him from where he lived, then that would be easier because they wouldn’t know him.

But they do, they know who he was and they all care for him, even enough to call him grandad and that’s too much to deal with right now. He turns and continues forward, trusting that the ship or whatever it is will lead him to his so-called room.

Sure enough, the TARDIS has lead Graham to a door. It’s wooden, or it at least looks like it’s wood, who knows in an infinite spaceship like this. There are circular patterns, glowing in a slight orange colour, upon the face of it. Graham doesn’t pay them attention though; instead, he raises his hand to the handle and grips it slowly, hesitating and drawing out the process of opening the door for fear of what is behind it.

And anything could be behind it, but he needs to see, needs to learn who the man, Graham O’Brien, really was. Graham pushes the door open and steps inside, eyes darting around the warm looking room. It’s cosy and homely and nothing like the strange corridor he stepped from.

This is different, it's familiar and alien at the same time, but it’s the first time he’s seen anything like it, and yet, he recognises it, feels the safety from it and yearns for it. Somehow. Graham shuts the door and leans back against it, chest rising and falling, eyes closing as he breathes in the room. 

It smells nice, comforting.

He inhales one more time and releases a deep breath before opening his eyes to properly look across the room now, the previous motion where he flicked his eyes over everything wasn’t enough. Now though, he takes his time to focus on the little details dotted around.

There’s a scarf in the same colours as the mug was, goldish lettering peeks out from where he, or who he was, hung it by the door. He takes his eyes from that and looks at the other jacket hanging there. It's brown and leather, slightly worn from use. His hand brushes against it, bringing it to his nose and smelling it and then across the red one he has on. He slowly removes it and sets it next to the other one. Two jackets, one with a badge that he liked, apparently, another bare from personality. If asked, he'd say he'll like the leather one more because it doesn't remind him of who he was.

Graham turns his attention from the jackets and back to the room as a whole. It’s neat and tidy, the covers on the bed are pulled up, the pillows are straight. There is an alarm clock on the bedside table and the back of a picture frame, the front of it facing the bed, or more precisely a pillow.  
Graham’s head tilts to the side, and he makes his way over, hand reaching down to it and pausing briefly before wrapping around and picking it up.

He turns it over, heart-thumping within his chest as he stares down at the photo. He doesn’t recognise her, but he can put two and two together to make four. This is the woman he married, clearly, because who else would it be? It's not that man, Jack.

“Grace,” Graham whispers, thumb brushing against the glass instinctively and pulling away just as quickly. It’s intrusive, almost, he doesn’t know her. The other one, the other him, he did, he knew her, and he loved her. 

But who he is now- He’s a stranger to her, to the woman he apparently loved enough to marry. Graham places the picture down again, this time turning it away from the bed. He turns the others for good measure as well. 

He lies down on the bed and stares up at the ceiling, thoughts spiralling and fracturing into different paths, different ideas. Graham gets lost in the ceiling and before long his eyes shut, the day's events taking their toll now upon his aching and tired body and he slips into a restless sleep, face twitching as he remembers some of the first thoughts he-  
  
  


\----

_Pain. Oh god, all he feels is pain, burning and unrelenting. Like he’s being held over hot coals, forced to stare into the fire and embers by forces unknown. Things, leather perhaps, dig into his wrists, legs, and chest. Restricted and restrained, hard to breathe, choking. There is pressure on his head and face, mouth forced shut, making it impossible for him to scream in agony while shadows move above, speaking in confusing sentences-_

_“What’s wrong with it?” One says. “The imprint should be working now; it worked on all the others why is this one and the other different?”_

_“I don’t know,” Another says, urgent. “The mindwipe worked this time, but the imprint refuses to take hold, every time it begins it stops-”_

_“Why?” The first demands._

_“He’s-” The second starts, pausing. “-he’s different, completely different to the native population here, his entire body, internal organs, even his brain is different, he's alien-”_

_"How is that possible?" The first says. "No one here should be different; we picked this planet because they're easy to wipe, easy to sell."_

_"Well he is," The second snaps, and there is tapping on a keyboard or something. "Along with the other one who is shouting for him."_

_"If he's alien, then what exactly is he?"_

_There's a pause. "Human," The second reveals and then he, eyes fearful and unknown, pain lessening now as he starts to slip away, is looking into a creatures face, eyes black and skin paled. "-he's human."_

\----

  
  
Graham jolts awake, heart thumping for an entirely different reason now. He doesn’t know what that was, but the pain and heat linger and- and- Oh god, he’s going to be sick. Graham's eyes flick across the room, spotting a room to the side that he’s sure wasn’t there when he walked in, and he rushes to it, door slamming open and head bowed over the toilet as soon as he enters.

He retches, a hand gripped around his waist and stays like that until he’s sure that’s everything. It’s not like he had much to throw up in the first place, but he’s cautious anyway. His throat burns and he leans away to pull himself over to the sink. Graham fills up a cup and greedily drinks, the water reliving some of the remnants from the acid reflux.

Graham places the cup down and looks into the mirror, and he can see himself fully for the first time. His face is lined, eyes drawn with dark shadows beneath them. There’s no smiling man this time, just a mouth set in a thin line on a face that screams tiredness to him. Graham steps away from the sink and looks to the shower. 

Maybe that would help.

And if it doesn’t, then it at least gives him a chance to think about whatever that was he saw? Remembered? He's not sure, the Doctor said he had no memories, but it seemed so real…

There were two voices, something about an imprint and it not taking hold, whatever that means. The comment about him being different sparks a curious thought. What made him different from the others? It was something to do with being alien. And what about the others? Because it’s obvious this might’ve happened to other people now. There are people lumped into the same boat as he is, only with an imprint or something, but it worked for them because they weren't human? Then that face, eyes as black as space, skin like that of a corpse, paled and unliving. No warmth there at all.

Graham runs a hand down his face. This just opens up more questions. Like, why didn’t the Doctor find this when she looked through his mind? Is it even real? Or is it just something his brain conjured to help with the stress of not knowing itself?

Graham doesn’t know, and standing in front of the shower isn’t going to answer any of them. He undoes his shirt and drops it to the floor and goes to remove his trousers, only to stop and stare at his chest and then wrists, eyes wide and surprised.

Three sets of purple bruises wrap around him. Graham brings his left hand to the one on his right arm and presses it, wincing when it stings. He doesn’t remember getting them, or even realising he was bruised, his body ached when he woke up, but-

Like a stone hitting a lake and sending ripples, it drops, whatever he saw in his dream must have happened. It actually happened, the pain and the- Graham turns from the bathroom and heads out into his bedroom, only stopping to grab a dressing gown along the way. He needs to speak to the Doctor, needs to show her-

Graham shrugs the gown on and heads to his door, exiting into the corridor. He looks up and down the hallway before realising that he hasn’t a clue where to start. “You showed me where my room was,” Graham says to the ship, putting his faith into it because it hasn’t lead him wrong yet.

“Can you lead me to the Doctor?”

There isn’t a reply, but there is a door on the opposite wall the moment he looks back up the corridor. “Through there?” Graham asks, not waiting for a reply as he walks towards it. He pulls it open and looks into it, finding another corridor. It’s short, and he can see the ending, can even hear the voices coming from what clearly is the console room, and he hesitates in the open doorway.

Graham takes a breath and steps forward, edging slowly down the corridor as the voices grow in volume. He waits and listens, missing most of the previous conversation-

_“-shouldn’t we?” Yaz says. “It would make sense.”_

_“I’m not sure, Yaz,” The Doctor speaks. “People would ask questions.”_

_“He doesn’t see many people though,” Ryan supplies, his voice drawn. “His mates are busy with work, and it’s nearly Christmas, we were going to-” The lad trails away. “-Doesn’t matter cause we ain’t doing it now.”_

_“What were you going to do, Ryan?” The Doctor asks, her voice gentle._

_There is a snort and a shuffling of clothes. “We were gonna go to Nan’s grave, me, Jack, and him,” Ryan reveals. “And then up to the hill, we were gonna take some food up there, not have a Christmas dinner, but just something, you know?” Graham leans back against the wall, emotions building, and he can’t figure out why. He can only picture the woman in the photo, not her voice or mannerism, but her face. “Have something to eat in a place she loved.”_

Graham exhales and pushes himself from the wall and into the console room, he’ll pretend he didn’t hear that. The moment they see him, he can tell the conversation has been stopped, and that’s for the best in his opinion.

“Graham,” The Doctor greets, fake smile on her face. “Did you-” Her brows furrow together. “You’re in your dressing gown. Why?”

Graham looks down, remembering the reason why he even wanted to find the Doctor in the first place. “That, yeah.” He looks at them all. “I- I think I remembered something.”

Ryan’s eyes widen slightly. “From before?”

Graham reluctantly looks at the lad. “No, not exactly,” He says, voice tripping. “I don’t know; it was confusing.”

“What did you remember?” Yaz probes.

Graham chews the inside of his mouth, hands clenching and only now does he feel the dull ache from the bruises on his arms. “Do you want me to be honest here, no matter how much it might hurt you three?” He asks, he might not know them, but he doesn’t want to hurt them and explaining about the pain, the burning, well that would hurt them.

The Doctor looks at Yaz and Ryan, watching their expressions and then nods of confirmation before facing Graham again. “Go ahead.”

“I woke up during it, I think, whatever they did I woke up,” Graham says, glaze locked onto the Doctor. “I felt the pain, and at first I thought it might have just been a dream or something, I don’t know, but I remember feeling something on my arms, legs, and chest, and, well, look-” He pulls up the sleeve of his dressing gown and shows the purple bruise to them all. “-I spotted them when I went to have a shower, wanted to clear my head and all, but found that instead.”

The Doctor comes forward and gently takes Graham’s arm, examining it. “It looks like you were restrained.”

“That’s what I remember,” Graham reveals. “Something was holding me in place, had this thing on my head that made it impossible to move, couldn't even scream no matter how much it hurt.”

The Doctor’s face pales, jaw clenching tight while her eyes take on a shadowed look. “Was there anything else, Graham?” She asks, voice icy.

“Yeah, they had a conversation, said something about an imprint not working, and then said about the other one, it wasn't working on them either.”

“An imprint?” Yaz repeats from behind him.

Graham turns to look at her, eyes catching the horrified expression on Ryan’s face as his eyes pass him. “They said I wasn’t like the others, said I was completely different, alien or something.” He faces the Doctor again. “They called it a mindwipe, said that that worked, but not the imprint, whatever that was.”

The Doctor releases his arm and pulls away. “Mindwipe?” She asks, and he nods, only to flinch back himself when she lashes out against the console.

“Doctor?” Yaz speaks, arm reaching out to Graham and motioning for him to take a step back. “What is that?”

The Doctor leans down heavily against the console, chest heaving with breaths. “Outlawed, barbaric, inhumane-” She spits out the words like poison. “-I had an idea that that was what it was, but I hoped it wasn’t, I really hoped it wasn't.” She moves away from the console, hands balling into fists. “Graham would’ve been aware, would've known or at least realised what was happening to him.”

“Aware?” Ryan says.

The Doctor doesn’t look at him. “You didn’t wake up, Graham, what you remembered, what you dreamt, that was your first memory after they took yours away.”

“I don’t understand, Doctor.”

“They kept you awake while they tore the memories from you, you were aware of what they were doing, every memory you ever had was pulled from your mind in quick succession, that’s why it hurt.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Ryan murmurs off to the side, and Yaz quickly moves over to Ryan while he leans down on his knees.

Graham stares at the Doctor, hardly knowing what to do with the information she just dropped onto him. “What will you do, Doctor?”

The Doctor keeps her eyes averted from them all. “We need to stop them, make it so they can never hurt someone else.” She says, voice completely changed now. She doesn’t attempt any warmth or kindness; she’s angry and almost vibrating with rage. Hands twitching, head angled away, hiding her features from them. Ryan and Yaz may be preoccupied, but Graham isn’t, and he’s watching her with keen eyes, and he catches her mouth when it utters one word with such contempt-

“Again.”

* * *

Graham follows after the Doctor, Ryan, and Yaz, their feet moving through the streets with pace. He didn’t want to come, not after they took everything from him, but he also didn’t want to be left alone, unsure and at a loss of who he even is.

The very concept is terrifying, nightmarish. Waking up without a clue... imagine doing that alone? If he didn't have the Doctor, Ryan, or Yaz when he woke up then he wouldn't know anything, he'll just be...

Blank.

But, as it stands in Graham’s opinion, he doesn’t feel that nightmare because he doesn’t know who he is, it’s a concept he can’t quite grasp in scale. He knows that he wouldn't want to lose what he knows now, or who he's moulding into? Who is he really? The three people in front of him know him as a friend and a grandfather, but he doesn't know them, or what they expect of him. Is he a kind man? Grumpy? Standoffish? He was married, so he must have been at least a decent bloke in some aspect that he can't figure out.

And he does have a partner, a man, so that's puzzling to his fledgeling mind.

But it's a mess, and it's confusing. He felt the agony, remembers it from the dream and he saw the horror on Ryan and Yaz’s faces, noticed the cold rage on the Doctor’s, but the nightmare that happened, the memories torn from his head? He doesn’t remember it. He can’t even put into perspective what or who he was went through during it. The idea of seeing people ripped from your mind, trying to hold onto them while screaming through your mouth that forced shut is horrifying.

“This is where we found you, Graham,” The Doctor speaks, dragging Graham’s morbid thoughts away from his ordeal. “Can you recognise any of it?”

Graham looks around the dingy alleyway. It’s wet, grey, lifeless and impersonal. Sort of like him, he supposes in a grimdark tone. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s a shitty alleyway on some crappy world that I was dumped in, unconscious and unaware of anything going on around me,” Graham snaps, only to wince at his tone. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you, Doc,” The moment the word, her name, shortened and filled with something akin to care, leaves his mouth he sees her flinch, hand clenching white around her sonic. “Did I say something?”

“You called her, Doc,” Ryan says, hope in his eyes, and something that Graham knows is going to get dashed just as quick.

“Well, Doctor was quite long, wasn’t it?” Graham says. “And if Yaz’s name is shortened, then-” He trails off, shrugging. “I can go back to calling you Doctor if you want.”

“No,” The Doctor says quickly, eyes snapping to him and glistening before turning away again. “It’s fine; I like it, it's... nice.”

Graham nods, mouth set in a thin line. He looks around again, hoping to spot something and finding nothing. “I think they might’ve knocked me out or something because I can’t recall anything here, sorry, I tried.”

“No, worries,” The Doctor replies, turning back to Graham. “I might be able to trace your signal, well where you were sort of,” She scrunches her face. “It’ll be a bit like a sniffer dog, this sonic, but it will at least pinpoint where they took you.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

The Doctor flashes a brief smile before rising the sonic and scanning Graham; the process takes a while. With so little to go on and interference in the air, but she finds what she’s looking forward with a triumph cheer.

“You located it?” Yaz asks.

“Roughly, but that's fine, we don’t need an exact location because as soon as I approach the area," She taps her sonic. "The sonic will indicate to me technology that shouldn’t be on a planet like this at this time.” She explains. “Did I ever say that I love my sonic?”

Ryan and Yaz smile and nod back, leaving Graham to alone to his thoughts because that’s a question he can’t answer, did she ever say that to him? And for another thought, what is a sonic?

“Well, lead on, Doctor,” Yaz says, ushering them onwards. "Daylight is disappearing."

When they finally get to the building, it looks just as plain as any of the others or the alleyway, devoid of emotion and personality, but this one has it windows barred with wood. The Doctor is sure that what was done to Graham is behind these doors and it takes all of Yaz’s persuasive technique to not have the Doctor going in guns blazing and ready to tear it down, brick by brick at first.

Which means they’re going through the backdoor. It’s dark now, the sun vanished from the horizon, the streets empty and no one is around apart from them, but Graham is nervous, eyes darting up at the building that stole his life from him. They don’t speak; they move together silently. Pressed against the cold wall until they come across a door, unassuming, but with a wave of the Doctor’s sonic, it’s swiftly opened. “In, quickly.”

It’s just as dark in the room, and Graham can’t make anything out. Everything blends together in a black blob. “Not being funny,” He whispers, eyes searching for the figure that he hopes is the Doctor. “But I can’t see a bloody thing in here, how are we meant to find what we're looking for in this?”

“One second, Graham,” The Doctor whispers back. There is a rustling, and then the room gets bathed in low light. “Pocket torch-”

“You mean a torch,” Ryan points out, dryly. The Doctor stares at him before turning swiftly and moving away. “She totally meant a torch.”

“Yeah, and we probably should follow that torch unless you want to be left in the dark,” Yaz says, heading off after the Doctor. “Come on.”

Ryan quickly follows after them with Graham picking up the rear. They walk in silence again; occasionally, the Doctor will pause and point the torch around before marching forward again. 

Graham watches them keenly though, they all move like a team, and he can’t help but feel like a spare part. Maybe he wasn’t before, but now, well he doesn’t really know them, does he? It's playing on his mind, and he's putting trust in them to help him and to help the man that they all know.

He goes back to looking around again, the further they move into the building the cleaner it gets. Boxes stacked neatly, the air fresher somehow, but none of that matters, not when they walk into the next room.

Each one of them stops dead in their tracks. This room has a light, and Graham really wished it didn’t. Metal cages line the walls, blank eyes stare at them.

“Doctor-” Someone says, is it Yaz or Ryan? Graham doesn't know, too caught up in staring at the people behind the bars. “Are these victims?”

“Yes,” The Doctor spits the word out like poison.

“Can we help them?”

“There’s nothing to help,” Graham says, voice carrying over them. He breaks away from the group and makes his way to one of the cages. There is a man and woman inside, nice clothes, warm looking, but faces looking at him with surprise. “They don’t know who they are.” He says feeling a kinship with them.

The woman focuses on Graham. “You don’t look like them.” She states. "You look like us."

The Doctor makes her way over to Graham. “Them?”

“The ones who take us,” The woman says. "Cause pain, always pain."

“She’s talking about the bastards who did this, Doc.” Graham spits out. 

"Look," He says, gesturing up and pointing at her arms. "Bruises like mine, but hers are darker, more recent, maybe."

“Black eyes, black eyes, just that, always that, staring down,” The man speaks for the first time, legs being drawn up to his chest and shaking. “Hurts us, they talk and talk, quickly and quickly, but always they hurt-”  
Graham withdraws from the cage, chest rising and falling. He feels hot and sick. The Doctor spares another look at them, expression soft, but tinged with anger. “This ends today, Doc, right?”

"It does."

“What are we going to do?” Ryan asks.

“I want you three to get these people out, while I-”

“No,” Graham says, making them all look to him. “I want to end this with you, Doctor.” Maybe it’s a low blow to use her full name, but he needs her to listen. “They did that to me,” His arm gestures to the woman and man. “I’m owed something from them; they're owed something from the bastards-”

The Doctor faces Graham. “We don’t do revenge.”

“They took my life from me, my knowledge of everyone I knew, and they did this to a person I am meant to care about, but know nothing about!” Graham continues on, pointing at his chest to drive the point home.

“Everything I knew and loved is gone from me,” He presses ever forward, missing the expressions on Yaz’s and Ryan’s faces for bringing up what Ryan said back in the TARDIS. “Like they did to these poor sods and the countless before them, lives stolen and erased, we might’ve well been killed because we'll never know who we were ever again.”

“And what do you plan on doing, Graham?” The Doctor asks, voice and tone sounding like they’ve had this conversation before. “We came to stop them, but we found people. It’s our job to rescue them, and I need you three to do that while I-”

“I ain’t letting you go without me, and that’s that,” Graham says, putting his foot down. They all look at him, expecting him to be something that he’s not, in his opinion. “You weren’t the one they deleted.”

The Doctor gaze doesn't leave Graham's face. “Fine,” She snaps. “Ryan and Yaz get them out of here,” She orders, passing the torch to the younger woman. “Me and Graham will put a stop to this.”

“Doctor-”

“Do it, Ryan,” The Doctor says, leaving no room for argument before she turns and heads from the room. "Come on, Graham."

Graham spares one look at Ryan who avoids eye contact, and there's a moment where he feels guilty for bringing up the 'gone' comment, but he can't focus on that, at least not at the moment anyway. He looks to the people locked away in cages on his way past them, wondering if he was locked in one like they are, empty eyes staring around confused and lost.

He turns and hurries up after the Doctor; she doesn’t speak to him, mouth pressed in a thin line as she walks forward with a clear goal in mind.  
He matches her pace, shooting glances her way every now and then. 

“Look, Doc-”

“Don’t.”

“I have a right to-”

“To what, Graham?” The Doctor says, stopping to stare Graham down. “Hurt them, kill them?”

“They hurt me,” Graham replies, keeping his voice quiet, but levelled at her. “And they hurt them back there.”

“Revenge isn’t a path to take, Graham, it never is.”

"Isn't it?" Graham balls his hands at his side. “Do you know what it’s like to not know yourself?” He asks, dragging the question out through clenched teeth. “I didn’t know my name or my planet, or what I even looked like, and neither does that lot back there, or the people they did this to before me.” The Doctor stares at Graham. “Where’s our justice? Will we ever get it?”

“You’re not going to kill the people who did this to you, Graham,” The Doctor states. "I won't allow that."

“I never said anything about killing them, Doctor,” Graham points out. “You did, you said that, I didn't.”

Although the thought remains in his head, eating away like moths to a blanket.

The Doctor looks away. “You did before, a while ago now.” 

Graham frowns at her back, stomach suddenly feeling like lead. “What?” He asks, losing footing in the conversation. “Are you saying that I killed before?”

“No,” The Doctor answers, turning around to stare at him again. “You were the better man, stepped away from that path, but I’m not sure now because I don’t know who you are or what type of man you are.” Her expression softens. “You’re angry, scared, you were born in fear, and you have every right to be all that, they took your life from you. Everything you were gone-” She exhales long and hard. “-and they don’t mix well together, Graham, you're a wildcard at the moment.”

“I saw your face back in the TARDIS,” Graham reveals after a second of thought. “You’re angry, or you were angry at least-”

“I still am, Graham.” The Doctor replies. "They hurt you, hurt one of my friends when you should've been under my protection. I failed you."  
"Maybe you did," Graham agrees. "I wouldn't know if you did or not." He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “But I don’t want to kill them,” Graham explains. “What I want to do is to shove them in the machines that did this and see how they like it, but,” He breathes out again. “Then they’ll be like me, innocent in a sense.”

“So what do you want to do, Graham?” The Doctor asks again.

“Destroy the place, break it down so they can’t restart it,” Graham says. "Lock them in those cages back there if they're still in this building and call the authorities or something."

Maybe, or maybe not, he'll genuinely decide when they enter that room.

The Doctor smiles, it’s slight and hardly touches her face, but it’s there. “You’re still the better man, Graham; you always will be,” She faces away again. “Now come, let’s shut this down for good.”

They make their way silently through the building, Graham following on the Doctor's heels as quietly as he can. The further they head into the building, the more that it starts to clear up.

Graham glances around, squinting his eyes. "I don't recognise anything."

The Doctor doesn't respond; she gestures instead for him to quieten down before pointing ahead and nodding towards it.

Graham follows her gaze and keeps his eyes narrowed on the flickering light ahead. He looks at the Doctor when she takes him by his hand, blinking in surprise at the voice in his head.

'Don't speak,' The Doctor's voice is loud, but not to his ears. 'You can think in response.'

'Is this your touch telepathy?'

There's a pause.

'Yeah,'

Then a sigh.

'Stay behind me, Graham, please.'

And with that, her hand drops from his, and he finds himself following after her once again.

The closer they get they begin to hear low murmurings, followed by a restrained groaning. They inch towards the doors, never once looking in as they listen.

"This is outstanding, the rate in which he heals and how he comes back from death," A beady-eyed figure says. "Selling him could net us more profits than any of the wastes of flesh here could-"

There's a muffled yell, a man's voice enraged and in pain.

"It's a shame the memory wipe never lasted on him like it did with the other human he so liked to shout for-"

The Doctor's eyes widen at that, and she stares at Graham. He can't make out the expression on her face. It's dark, very dark. He's not sure.

And he doesn't have time to process it before she springs from the wall and strides into the room.

"Oh, yeah," The Doctor barks, causing surprise to the two figures who fumble for weapons that they never reach before she disarms them, throwing one weapon away and keeping the other. "It's a grand shame the memory wipe never worked, isn't it?"

Graham's eyes widen when he spots her pointing the weapon at the two figures who now have their hands up, feet edging back. He rushes into the room, skidding to a halt when the man in the restraints begins thrashing the moment his eyes lock onto him.

"Jack, stop-" The Doctor keeps her eyes trained on the figures as she pulls out her sonic. She presses the button down, releasing the bonds from the man.

Jack rips himself free and stumbles from the table just as quick. He doesn't look at the Doctor; his eyes are focused only on Graham.

"He doesn't know who you are," The Doctor speaks loudly.

Jack snaps his head from Graham to the Doctor before turning back. He steps forward. "Graham-" He whispers, closing the distance between them and taking his head in his hands. He presses a kiss against his forehead; it's light and comforting in ways Graham can't explain. "It's me, Jack, I know you don't know me, but we're together, dating, all right?"

Graham stares at Jack. He recognises him from the picture, but that's about it. "Doctor-"

"It is Jack, Graham," The Doctor reassures. "He'd never hurt you; he couldn't live with himself if he did."

"But I-" Graham flicks his eyes back to Jack once again. "-They mentioned your name when I woke up."

The moment the sentence leaves his mouth, he sees the same pain in Jack's eyes, only magnified.

"I couldn't stop them," Jack explains, hands dropping from Graham's face. "I heard him screaming, crying out for me, then Grace, then names I didn't know, Doctor," He turns and faces her. "They cycled through his entire life from adulthood to childhood and then nothing-"

"I know," The Doctor replies in a monotone voice. She stares at the two figures, silent as they look between the three of them. "I should end the pair of you-"

"If you were going to do that, you would'be done it by now," The braver of the two speaks. "And you haven't, so what do you want?"

"You're right," The Doctor places the weapon behind her and out of reach of them. Graham follows it with his eyes. "You won't get away with this, you'll pay for what you did, I will make sure of that."

"And who are you to judge us?" The second now says. "Are you human like those two are? You know the tall one; he heals, the price we could get for him would be enough for all of us here-"

"No," The Doctor steps forward. "No one is selling anyone, not anymore, not ever again; it ends today."

Graham watches her before looking at the man next to him. His eyes have a sheen to them. "It's not your fault," He tries to comfort the man. His hand reaches out, and he hovers it above his shoulder before pulling it away. "I'm sorry I don't-"

"That's not your fault," Jack interjects, and he blinks, his unshed tears falling from his eyes. He closes the gap again and grabs Graham into a stiff but tight hug. "We'll figure this out, Graham, I promise you, I'll figure something out, anything and I'll never stop looking until you get what they stole back, not for me or for Ryan, but for you because I love you-"

Graham stands in the hug, heart shattering into pieces because he doesn't feel anything.

This man is grieving in front of him, eyes filling with tears and heart pouring itself out and he just feels-

**_Nothing._ **

He pulls himself free from the hug, repressed anger coming forth in a blazing hot rage. His eyes snap to the gun, and he leaps forward, grabbing it. His hand wraps around the trigger before it snaps to the two figures, wavering in the air from his wrath.

"I should kill them for what they did."

"Graham," The Doctor snaps, turning to face him, but keeping out of the crosshair. "Put the gun down-"

Graham clenches his jaw, chest heaving and hand tightening. "They deserve to die, Doctor!"

"Graham, I said we don't-"

The reverberation of the shot drowns out the Doctor's voice. His arm aches from the shockwave moving through it, but he keeps his eyes on the falling body. A cruel smile lights up his face as he snaps the weapon to the second figure who is now grabbing at the body of the fallen one. "One down."

"You killed him!" The figure blurts out in shock. "You murdered him!"

"Maybe I'll kill you as well; it's only fair."

There's a tense second of silence.

A will he or won't he moment.

"Killing doesn't change what they did to you, Graham," The Doctor speaks, tired and exhausted. "It never does, you took one life, you don't have to take another, you can step away."

Graham stares into the black eyes of the figure. It's not human, and he couldn't possibly tell anyone what it is.

But it hurt him, and by default, it hurt the people he was meant to care about.

"We never killed anything-" The remaining figure says. "-at least nothing that didn't come back from the dead, they didn't know what happened to them, it was a better way for them!"

"No, you took everything from me," Graham snaps as he steps forward. He hears someone behind him, and he turns his head, briefly locking his eyes with that of Jack's before snapping them back to the figure. "My name, my face, my planet, my-" He aims the gun down, pressing it close to the now cowering figure. "-my parents, my grandson, my wife, and my-" His arm gestures behind him. "-whoever that is, whatever he is to me, you took him from me, and you hurt him, and for what?"

He gestures around the room in fury. 

"For what?!" He yells, pushing the gun further into the figure's body. "For a price to sell us, to sell the people here, how many people have you done this to? You say you never kill, but I feel dead because I don't remember who I am anymore!"

"Graham," A voice speaks, and he would ignore it if it were the Doctor, but it's not, it's Jack, and it's pleading. "You're not this."

"How do you know I'm not this?" Graham spits in response. "The Doctor said the same bloody thing-"

"You cry at films, Graham," Jack states. "And you stepped away from the man responsible for your wife's death."

"So, what?" Graham finally turns, and he stares Jack down. "You don't want me to get justice for what they did?"

Jack exhales. "I want them dead, but not by your hands-" He states. "You've killed one, let the other-"

"Go?!"

"No," Jack looks at the Doctor. "Can you get that machine working?"

The Doctor stares at Jack. "You want to use the mindwipe on him, don't you?"

"It's only fair," Jack stands to his full height. "They killed me, and they took Graham's memory from him, it's an eye for an eye-"

"We don't do that here, Jack."

"Oh, come off the high horse, Doctor," Jack remarks back at her. "You're talking to me now, and I know more than they do."

"That doesn't make it right, Jack." The Doctor sighs as she crosses the mental line in her head. Her eyes flick down to the unmoving body and back up again. "Graham, lower the weapon-"

"I want to take my-"

"And you will get it!" The Doctor snaps as she steps forward. "I could disarm you, but I want you to put that weapon down, show me the man that you were," She requests. "Before you decided to bloody your hands."

Graham stares at her. His gun lowers. "Justice?"

"Justice."

He throws the weapon down and grabs the cowering figure. "Then get the machine working-" He pulls the figure up to his feet and begins dragging him towards the gruesome-looking bed that Jack was on.

Jack helps Graham, their hands meeting as they restrain him. As soon as it's done, Jack reaches for Graham's hand, pulling it away and towards him. "I don't care how much you remember, and I don't care how long it takes-"

Graham frowns at him.

"-I'll stay with you until you at least smile at me."

The frown falls from his face.

"That's a start," Jack smiles at him. "And I'll take it."

Graham quirks an eyebrow at Jack before turning and focusing onto the Doctor. "Is it ready?" The Doctor nods after a moment. "Then do it, Doc."

"Then what?"

"We leave him in here, let him live with the fear of not knowing who he is," Graham snarls.

"Tied to the bed?" Jack looks at the Doctor. "That's signing his death warrant and if we're leaving him tied to the bed then we might as well shoot just him and call it a day, Doctor."

"No, we're not doing that, Jack," The Doctor shakes her head. "We'll leave a message for the authorities; they can shut this place down for good."

"Please don't do this-" The figure pleads. "-I can give you whatever I have, the money we made, just don't make me like him!"

The Doctor meets Graham's and Jack's eyes, and she sees the mirror in their eyes, hates that it's in hers as well.

A darkness, brewing under the surface, their hands interlinked in hate.

"You should've thought about that before you did it to my friend."

She pulls the switch and steps back, feet moving around the bed and coming to a stop on Graham's right side. She glances at the hand offered to her.

"Let us be the horror in his nightmares, Doc," Graham says, gesturing his hand. "Like he is the one in my mind."

The Doctor takes his hand, joining the three of them together in their pain and agony.

"At least the kids aren't here," Jack murmurs.

"The moral compasses," The Doctor states, voice just as quiet. "Graham wouldn't want us doing this."

"Graham would rather he kept his memories," Graham stares at the writhing figure on the bed, the light from the machine glows upon his face. "But the Graham you knew isn't here anymore."

"No," The Doctor looks to her right, eyes connecting against the alien face of her friend. "He isn't."

**Author's Note:**

> could continue this into something because the concept is interesting in the sense that everyone is just that little bit darker


End file.
